- I want to say, no! You can’t have another Lehmann B. Smith record until you go back and finish the last one. Perennially underhearlded, now sending out a seventh, lovingly crafted full-length into a cold and uncaring world, it’s time to say: is it a problem with him, or is it you? Yeah it’s you.
It doesn’t matter that his desire to self-promote is right up there with a cave-dwelling hermit. It doesn’t matter that his wispy unkempt hair, chubby cheeks and small, sunken eyes give him an air of child molester-chic. It doesn’t matter that he has a tiny, nasal little, Neil Young whine and a desperate Elliott Smith whisper; it doesn’t matter that his lyrics endlessly self-deprecate until you’re ready to grab him by the lapels and scream “back yourself!”; and it doesn’t matter that he’s a musician’s musician, jamming out the kind of quiet, complex pop gems you only become really aware of because -subtle as they are- they’re so bleedingly different from every one of the thousand million other cookie-cutter bands you’ve been forced to listen to on yoof radio.
Yeah, okay, so, looking at all that, it probably does matter that the guy is almost archetypally set up to fail and I was prepared to just keep scooping up each obscure diamond -for my own pleasure, if no-one else’s- as they came tumbling out of the delightfully named Special Award label.
However, the last few years has seen Lehmann’s band Totally Mild -he’s the bassist- achieve quite significant indie success, employing many of the same ingredients too. It feels like a no-brainer: timeless pop that’s both immediately enjoyable, but which offers as much depth as you’ve got time to give it. Clearly it’s not and that confuses me a little.
In the same way, I’m a little at a loss about how to review what’s on offer in new record, Popular Music, because if I didn’t get you with my description of Neil Young meets Elliott Smith vocals over Bacharach meets The Band orchestration back then, I’m not sure how to enthuse you now. Well, he does do that great tongue-in-cheek rip of Led Zep’s Immigrant Song on recent single Thus Must Rust.
I’m hoping that the release on Bedroom Suck, which has been just spewing out great music lately, with a little help from likeable indie distributors Remote Control give Lehmann the lift he needs to get across the line and get at least swell that diehard cult following a little.
As always, Lehmann B. Smith is acutely self-aware, but targets his own position even more explicitly than usual on album opener Blame Me, putting a harsh spotlight on the shortcomings of his songwriting aesthetic before wailing: “When everyone around is getting blog famous / I’ll be getting drunk and pointing fingers at the world / Blame me, bla-a-ame me!” Take a little of the burden of awareness away from Lehmann, please, a little pain out of the blame game, take a listen. Popular Music might forever be couched in huge scare quotes, but it’s one of the best records that’ll come out this year.
- Chris Cobcroft.